


Precious Moments

by RetroactiveCon



Series: Hold Tight to What You Love [8]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Jewish Leonard Snart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:36:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21941269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “Being a good villain and a good parent aren’t mutually exclusive. You aren’t afraid I’ll raise our children up to do evil?”“No.” Barry runs his hand over Nora’s tufty dark curls. “I have a say in their upbringing too."
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Series: Hold Tight to What You Love [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571482
Comments: 18
Kudos: 174





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SansationalSans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansationalSans/gifts).



Somehow (he doesn’t quite track the progression), Leonard becomes the stay-at-home father. This is beneficial to all involved. After about a week, Barry is losing his mind with eagerness to get back to CCPD and STAR Labs. Leonard, by contrast, is perfectly happy to coordinate Rogues business from the house. (This has the unintended side effect of introducing all of the Rogues to his children. Shawna adores them, and somewhat unexpectedly, Mark is instantly smitten.) 

“I feel like such a bad parent,” Barry laments. From Leonard’s vantage, he certainly doesn’t look it: he’s on his back, Nora deeply asleep on his chest. When Barry shifts into a more comfortable position, she purrs, tucks her legs underneath herself so her diapered behind is in the air, and falls back asleep. 

“You’re not a bad parent, Scarlet.” Leonard sits down beside him, settles Michael in his lap, and plays idly with Barry’s hair. After a moment, Michael mimics him, although his chubby little arms barely reach. “You’re working. And really, I don’t mind.” He bends down and kisses the top of Michael’s head. Michael coos and flops sideways out of excitement. 

Barry giggles. “You know, it’s really funny to walk in on a Rogues’ meeting now. ‘Cause there you are, Captain Cold, planning another heist, and there’s the twins in your lap eating their own feet or some other adorable baby thing.” 

Lisa had, in fact, remarked on that very thing the other day. Leonard shrugs. “Being a good villain and a good parent aren’t mutually exclusive. You aren’t afraid I’ll raise our children up to do evil?”

“No.” Barry runs his hand over Nora’s tufty dark curls. “I have a say in their upbringing too. Plus, you’re not evil, just…” He trails off. Michael, noticing the silence, coos in response. 

“Just me?” Leonard slips a finger into Michael’s fat little fist. Both twins have darker skin than he does—not by much, but noticeably. He can’t help being glad of it, although he knows it will cause them trouble as they age. 

“Yeah, just you.” Barry adjusts Nora on his chest and closes his eyes. “I think I’m gonna nap with her, if that’s okay.”

Leonard scoops Michael out of the way so he can bend down and kiss Barry’s brow. He wonders as he does when he got domestic and why it so thoroughly agrees with him. “Get some rest. If Nora wakes, I’ll get her.” 

Ten minutes later, Barry is fast asleep. He and Nora look so alike—sprawled in the sunlight, delicate features illuminated, mouths gaping open and eyes tight shut—that Leonard has to get a picture. Barry will probably be embarrassed, but it’s too precious a moment not to immortalize. 

“Look,” he croons to Michael. “Your papa and your sister are so pretty, aren’t they?” Michael peers at them, coos, and goes back to trying to stuff his socked foot into his mouth. Leonard opts to take that as agreement, although he knows he shouldn’t. “They are. They’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to have all three of you.”

Michael burbles happily. Leonard coos in response, just to let the baby know he’s listening. 

“I’ve gone soft,” he murmurs to no one in particular. Right now, though, he feels nothing but contentment at going ‘soft.’


	2. Chapter 2

The toddler years don’t go by nearly fast enough. Leonard had a vague memory from raising Lisa of the terrible twos and threes, but that in no way prepared him for dealing with two clingy, squabbling toddlers. Both of them have Barry’s need for attention and praise. Unlike Barry, however, they’re constantly competing with each other. Leonard is so weary that he offers a prayer of thanks aloud the first time they make it through dinner without an argument. 

“Please tell me it gets better from here?” Barry asks. He makes a show of flopping on the bed, naked except for his briefs. Once, Leonard might have been excited by this. Now, neither of them can muster the energy to do anything at night other than sleep. 

“No guarantees.” He casts a brief glance at the baby monitor. Michael and Nora have begged him to remove the monitor from their room, but until they’re both capable of sleeping through the night, he refuses to do so. “Didn’t Cisco say they would get their powers young?”

Barry groans. “I forgot about that. Can you imagine two speedster babies tearing around the house? I’m never going to get a moment to rest.” 

“I don’t know that they’ll both be speedsters.” Leonard listens to the twins’ deep, even breathing through the monitor. If he looks in on them, he knows they’ll be sleeping soundly. (They cuddle when they sleep, despite seldom hugging while awake. Nora tends to attach herself to Michael like a backpack, which is positively adorable.) “Cisco only said ‘powers.’” 

“That might be worse.” Barry burrows his face into a pillow. “At least speedsters I can keep up with.” 

This bold proclamation is put to the test less than a week later. Leonard is completing Barry’s tax forms (Barry is hopeless at it) and keeping half an eye on the twins. He thinks they’re getting along for once when, out of nowhere, Nora vanishes in a streak of blue lightning and reappears clutching Michael’s beloved stuffed tiger. 

“Nora.” He sets the pen down with a decisive _click._ “Give Hobbes back to Michael.”

“Took him,” Nora chirps. “Mine now.” She dodges out of reach of Michael’s grabbing hand, more blue lightning crackling around her. “You’re so slow, Michael!” 

“Barry, your child has lightning,” Leonard calls. 

Barry bolts into the room, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, and demands, “Which child?” When he sees Nora wreathed in blue lightning, he mumbles something that might be “Oh hell no,” runs his toothbrush back to the bathroom, then bolts over and scoops Nora into his arms. “Hey, Miss Nora Joy, I think you and I need to go for a run and have a long talk about using our speed responsibly.”

“What speed?” Nora waves Hobbes and pouts when Barry takes him away. “Michael’s just slow.” 

Barry runs over, gives Leonard a kiss on the cheek, and promises, “We’ll be home soon. If Michael starts running too, please just turn the thermostat to below freezing?” 

Leonard makes a noncommittal sound. Most of the time (direct hits from the cold gun notwithstanding) cold doesn’t harm speedsters, merely drains their energy. However, he’s never going to forget watching the twins shiver and cry after they were born as they struggled to adjust to losing Barry’s superhuman heat. He doesn’t know if he could tolerate seeing them cold again. “Have a good run.”

Barry and Nora disappear in a crackle of yellow lightning. Michael watches them go, mouth gaping open. 

“Nora can flash?” 

Leonard forsakes the tax forms and sits beside Michael instead. “Yes, sweetheart, Nora can flash like your papa can. Maybe one day, you will too.” 

Michael totters to his feet, clenches his fists, and runs across the living room. There’s no crackle of lightning. Leonard has to leap to his feet and scoop Michael up before he impacts the far wall. “No, sweetheart, hey. Your powers will come in time. Nora got hers first, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get your own.” 

Michael kicks out with one foot. “Nora always goes first,” he says bitterly. “First, faster, better. Can I be better for once?” 

Leonard sits back down, settles Michael in his lap, and tucks Hobbes into his son’s arms. The little stuffed tiger looks slightly worse for the wear, but at least Nora’s running doesn’t seem to have done him lasting damage. “You might get different powers,” he says. “Your Uncle Cisco vibed the two of you while you were still in Papa’s belly, and it sounded like the two of you might have different powers.”

Michael perks up. “Better powers?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Leonard corrects. He casts a quick glance at the clock. It’s been barely five minutes, but Barry and Nora could be back at any time: a ‘long talk’ in the Speed Force seldom takes more than a minute or two. “…You know, while your Papa and sister are out, do you want to share a bowl of ice cream with me? We can read some more Calvin and Hobbes.” 

He scoops a small helping of ice cream and hunts through one of Barry’s Calvin and Hobbes collections. Although he’s by no means as versed in the comic strips as Barry, who can pull out a quote for every occasion, he knows which strip he needs. 

“ _Abba,”_ Michael says, frustrated, around a mouthful of vanilla ice cream. “Any of them are good.”

“Ha!” Leonard opens the book triumphantly to a full-page color sequence depicting Calvin and Hobbes in their beloved red wagon. “Let’s see…well, here, Calvin says, ‘Want to help me test the theory of relativity?’”

By the time they reach the end of the comic, Michael is smiling and clutching Hobbes tightly. “So speed and time work backwards?” 

Leonard considers. He’s not about to tell Michael that speed and _temperature_ are opposites—the last thing he wants is for Michael to get ideas about messing with the thermostat. “In a way. As your Papa explained it to me, the faster you move, the more you sort of…bend time.” 

“Oh.” Michael fiddles with Hobbes’ front paw. 

This is the moment that a streak of yellow-and-blue lightning enters the house. Barry skids to a stop, Nora in his arms, and proclaims, “Okay, we’ve had the ‘great power and great responsibility’ talk—you ate ice cream without us?”

There’s no denying it when Leonard is still holding the bowl and Michael has a little vanilla goatee. Michael mumbles, “Sorry Papa.” Leonard offers an unrepentant smile. 

“You never share.”

Nora puts her chubby hands on Barry’s face and begs, “Papa, Papa, I want ice cream.” 

Two minutes later, all four of them are cuddled on the sofa. This time, Barry is holding the bowl of ice cream and is therefore responsible for sharing with everyone—no easy task for a speedster. Leonard remains in charge of Calvin and Hobbes. Because he thinks it will make Nora laugh, he enlists Michael’s help in reenacting the tale of the time-traveling wagon. After that, they settle down and read until both children (and Barry) look sleepy. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” With an effort, Leonard manages to lift both twins. Nora immediately burrows her face into his neck. Her curls whisk across his face, ticklish enough that he has to turn his head away. “There we go. Time to brush teeth and get certain little people in bed.” 

Once the twins are asleep, he returns to his drowsy speedster. As soon as he sits down, Barry tips over sideways and settles his head in Leonard’s lap. “I’m not ready to have a second speedster in the house,” he mumbles. 

_“You’re_ not?” Leonard drawls. If Barry anticipates difficulty keeping up with Nora, what exactly does he think Leonard is going to do?

“Oh yeah…well, she seemed receptive enough to my talk about her powers. Hopefully she’ll behave?”

Leonard snorts. Optimism only goes so far with small children. Even sweet little ones like their twins will have mischievous moments, and he can only imagine how much worse they’ll become now that Nora can make mischief at superspeed. “I guess we’ll see.”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s another month before Leonard witnesses one of the most spectacular things he’s ever seen (and that’s counting Barry’s speed, which never fails to impress him). He’s halfway through baking challah when Michael gives a joyous shriek. Upon turning around, he sees why. 

When the twins were still very small, Cisco bought them a ball popper toy. It has been, without a doubt, their most beloved toy—Michael in particular derives hours of amusement from watching the balls fly. Now, as Leonard watches, the balls fly upward from the popper, stop just before they hit the floor, and follow the same path in reverse. When Michael claps, they fly outward again. It’s not more than five seconds, but Leonard feels certain it’s a reversal of time: Michael is able to ‘rewind’ events in a small area.

“…That’s new.” 

It has to be connected to the Oculus, he reasons. Although he’s never shown any ill effects (save the nightmares), it fits that a temporal explosion would have long-lasting effects. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” 

As soon as Michael loses concentration, the balls hit the floor and scatter. He jolts like he’s coming out of a trance. “Abba?” 

“Come here.” Leonard pulls one of the sturdy wooden chairs over to the counter. Obediently, Michael scampers over, hops up on the chair, and helps him roll the dough into long strips. While they work, Leonard asks, “Did you notice your ball popper was behaving a little oddly?”

Michael shakes his head. “Not the toy. Me. I made it go backwards, like Nora and Papa.” 

Leonard raises his eyebrows. “No, sweetheart, not like Nora and Papa. They have to run for time to go backwards. You were just sitting still.”

Michael nods. “I can see, like, strings, and when I pull on the strings, things go backwards.” He reaches out a tiny hand and mimics pulling. Against his will, Leonard finds his hands moving backwards. The strip of dough in his hands flattens out, its carefully-rolled shape disappearing. 

“That…that’s new,” he says again. More firmly, he says, “Don’t pull on the strings that attach to people. It’s not right to make people go backwards if they don’t tell you it’s okay.”

Michael tilts his head. “Can I make Nora go backwards if she runs and steals Hobbes?” 

“…No,” he says reluctantly, although were he in Michael’s position, he certainly would. “If Nora steals your Hobbes, your Papa or I will get him back for you. It isn’t your place to make her behave.” 

“Papa makes people behave.” Michael helps him arrange the strips and watches carefully as he begins to braid. “Other people, I mean, not me and Nora.” 

“Papa is a hero. Heroes have that privilege.” Leonard isn’t about to get into the nuances of Barry’s superheroing with a four-year-old. When Michael and Nora get older, he’ll have to explain to them that even heroes sometimes make the wrong choices. For now, it’s best to impress on them that their freedom to use their powers ends the moment they affect another person. “You are a tiny little Michael, and you don’t have that privilege yet.” 

“Oh.” Michael contemplates the strips of dough. “I guess so.”

Just after Leonard gets the challah in the oven, Barry and Nora emerge from the bathroom. Nora’s curls are damp and her round face is flushed—she, like Barry, enjoys hot baths. “Abba!” she coos. 

“Hello, honey.” Leonard scoops her up and jounces her. To Barry, he says, “You should ask Michael about his ball popper toy. I think he has something to tell you.” 

Nora glances at the flour-dusted countertop and pouts. “You made challah without me?”

“I didn’t know you wanted to help.” Leonard sets her on the chair, Michael having forsaken it minutes ago. “You can help me clean up—and if you want, you can help me salt it when it comes out of the oven.” 

She accepts this as a compromise. While she helps Leonard clean off the counter (her idea of ‘helping’ involves drawing snowflakes in the flour), Barry takes Michael into the living room for a talk about the ball popper incident. Leonard can tell when they’re done because Barry bolts into the room just long enough to say, “Oh, I was so not prepared for temporal manipulation.”

“I have to agree, Scarlet.” Mischievous speedsters he can deal with. A child who can rewind time—that’s not covered in any of the parenting books he read. “Have they written a ‘Caring for Your Meta Child’ book yet?” 

“Probably someone has. I bet it’s terrible though.” When Leonard raises an eyebrow, Barry explains, “Joe told me he read every ‘how to help your traumatized foster child’ book and article he could lay hands on. Apparently they don’t cover how to deal with a child who sees yellow speedsters in their living room.” 

“Really? That seems like an essential component of childcare.” Leonard dusts flour into the trash can. Nora, deprived of her doodle pad, clambers off the chair. “Not so fast, honey. You wanted to help me salt the challah, remember?” 

While he fetches out the piping-hot challah loaf, Barry bolts out of the room. He returns at superspeed, Michael in his arms. When they skid to a stop, Michael giggles, “That was fast, Papa.” 

“We did a lap of the house,” Barry explains. “…Maybe twice. I dunno. Michael, did you pull time strings while we were running?”

Michael shakes his head, eyes widening in what looks like alarm. “No, Papa! Abba said it’s _bad_ to pull strings on people!” 

“Pull strings?” Nora asks. 

Michael makes the pulling motion with his left hand. The salt falling from the shaker stops in midair and retreats up into the shaker once more. When Michael claps, it falls again. “Pull strings,” he explains. “Not on you, Abba, just on the salt.” 

Nora stares at the salt shaker, evidently dumbfounded. Leonard is just about to prod her for a reaction when she bursts out, “That’s so much cooler than running fast! Why don’t I get to pull strings?” 

Barry runs his fingers through her curls. “The Speed Force chose you,” he explains. “Just like Time chose Michael. Both of your powers are very special…and I think they’re beautiful.”

Leonard nods emphatically. As the only non-metahuman in the house, he remains in awe of his family’s powers. That’s a good thing, he supposes; if the twins are anything like Barry, they’ll need someone to remind them how stunning their powers are. He’s all too happy to play that role. 

“Well.” Nora speeds across the room to give Barry a hug. “I like being like you, Papa.” 

“You know,” Leonard offers, “your Papa is ‘Scarlet’ because he wears a scarlet suit. Maybe I should call you Little Blue because of your lightning, huh, Nora?” 

Nora perks up and rocks happily. Michael pouts. “What am I?” 

“You’re my little sweetheart,” Leonard replies instantly. When he gives it some thought, he decides to break a promise he’s kept since Michael’s birth. “You could be my little Mick. Like, ‘in the Mick of time.’”

Michael claps delightedly. Barry groans, ponders something, and groans even more deeply. “First of all, that’s a terrible pun, and second of all, why did I just now realize you named him for Mick?” 

“Well, I can’t help you there.” His Scarlet is so adorably oblivious sometimes. Most of the time, like right now, it’s endearing. “But thank you, as always, for saying it’s terrible.” For the twins’ benefit, he sinks into an exaggerated bow. Nora giggles. 

“Papa, Nora, I can show you pulling strings,” Michael offers. He’s ever-so-pleased to have found his powers, and Leonard can’t blame him. Nora has raced proudly around the house for a month; he deserves a moment to show off. “Come on!” 

Agreeably, Barry carries him into the next room. Nora makes to follow them, then races to Leonard’s side. “You too, Abba.” 

He can’t resist scooping her up. Since getting her speed, she’s been resistant to being carried, but he still wants to hold her. “All right, Little Blue. Let’s go see what your brother can do.”


End file.
